MidKnight: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (Tangled Crowns Book 2)

by Ann Denton

  “You didn’t hit my head. You wanna do it again?”

  Bam. My shoulders smacked the side of the passageway. Connor’s eyes narrowed and heat filled his gaze. This time I knew what was coming and I wrapped my legs around Connor’s waist. We kissed until we were breathless.

  He nipped at my lip and groaned. “Gah, I don’t want to stop.”

  “You don’t have to,” I whispered. “We don’t have to hide any more either. You could do this to me in the hallway and the guards would have to go around the corner and wait.”

  Connor trembled beneath me. “I don’t want to hurt you—”

  “We can be sweet for round two,” I promised. “Besides, I owe you for leaving you alone with those awful Countesses all day.”

  “You do,” he moaned as I grabbed him through his trousers, stroking the length of his bulge.

  “Go ahead and be dirty for round one then,” I told him, wondering what my sweet little Cee would do.

  “We can’t.” Connor dropped my feet to the ground and backed away. “Not yet. We need to check on everyone in their rooms before the official dinner.”

  I was disappointed. But he was right. We could use the opportunity to check on Aiden.

  Connor latched onto my hand and hauled me quickly through the passages, cutting my arguments off with short shushes.

  Torches lit our way and I realized Connor must have told a guard or two ahead of time, so they could light our path. Once we got close to the north wing, the torches stopped. Connor’s feet slowed. He leaned close to me and whispered, “We have to be absolutely silent now.”

  I nodded. Then he led me into the pitch darkness, pierced only occasionally by spy holes. He stopped and I nearly ran into his back.

  He pulled me toward the wall, and I put my eye up to a small peephole. Connor stood next to me and leaned forward to peer through another opening.

  The room we stared at was Malia’s dressing room. Her maid was removing her day gown to replace it for the formal dinner we were set to have in a few hours. Malia was an older duchess, slightly plump, but quite curvy in a good way. She lifted her arms to let her maid pull down her overdress. Once she’d stepped out of it, she shed her chemise. And then Malia stood naked but for her thigh high white stockings and jeweled court shoes. A few glimmering blue scales ran up her backbone and on the back side of her arms, a sign of her mer heritage.

  Her maid hung the dress and Malia stopped her before she grabbed another. “Can I just have my robe? And the letter again, please?”

  The servant brought the requested items and then Malia shooed her away. “I just need a moment.”

  Once the maid had left the room, Malia slipped on the robe, sat at her dressing table and unfurled a scroll.

  Her eyes scanned the contents briefly before she leaned forward onto the table, propping herself up on her elbows.

  A heart wrenching sob filled the room. I pulled back from the peephole, feeling guilty.

  Connor leaned back and grabbed my hand. We had just turned away when there was a knock at Malia’s door.

  Connor froze. Then he dragged me back to the peephole.

  I touched his arm. When he looked over at me, I held my hands up in question, silently asking what we were doing.

  He held up clenched fists and shivered in response. Shivering was his physical answer to me, from a secret communication style we’d developed as teens. It meant he felt fear from someone. Scared—Malia felt scared.

  Malia’s maid answered the door.

  “Oh, I must have the wrong room!” a deep, familiar voice said.

  Malia put her scroll into a drawer in her dressing table, wiped her eyes, and stood.

  “Lysa, go ahead and pull my gown, will you? I’ll help this gentleman.”

  “But—” her maid looked in askance at Malia’s lack of clothing.

  The duchess just waved her off and opened the door.

  “You have the wrong room?” Malia asked. “We have a map of this floor of the palace from Jorad. Would you care to see it?”

  “That would be so kind,” the man replied, stepping inside. Donovon followed Malia over to a writing desk on the far side of the room. She picked up a large sheet of parchment and handed it to him.

  “Is this what you needed?” she asked.

  “It’s a start,” Donovon scanned the map.

  “How is everything going since you arrived, Ambassador?” Malia asked.

  “To plan,” Donovon replied.

  “Good. He’s out?”

  The ambassador Donovon was replacing had just packed up with Isla’s entourage and would be leaving with her.

  Donovon nodded.

  Malia smiled, “Is everyone still on the same time line?”

  “Yes. Just hours away. Just long enough to get everything and everyone in place.”

  They were just discussing Rasle leaving. Nothing exciting. Nothing incriminating. It made me feel a bit guilty about watching Malia’s private moment before. Perhaps not all was well with her family.

  I tugged on Connor’s sleeve, but he didn’t leave.

  Malia nodded. “So, Rasle is excited for the change?”

  “It’s been a long time coming.”

  “When you’re being strangled, every second feels like a lifetime,” Malia agreed. “And those taxes have strangled us all.”

  I leaned back from the peephole, fear punching a hole in my chest. Did she mean my taxes? Our taxes? Evaness? Was Malia angry with Mother? Me?

  “Sedara’s been taking advantage too long,” Donovon replied. “If the blighters in Lored weren’t such cowards, they’d agree.”

  My chest loosened a bit. Sedara. They hated Sedara. Sedara taxed everything that went across the sea. It was natural to resent them and their navy.

  I felt a rush of relief that I wasn’t looking at a noble who was furious with me. I was almost giddy that their anger was directed at someone else. I didn’t think I could handle one more problem right now.

  Malia nodded at Donovon. “Lored are a bunch of cowards. No one likes getting jammed.”

  “Well, thank you for the map. I’ll let you get ready for dinner.”

  Malia grabbed his arm before he left. “You said hours.”

  Donovon nodded and glanced over at the maid. “Thank you again.”

  Malia just nodded as he shut the door behind him. She gave a long sigh and went back to her maid, who silently began dressing her for dinner.

  Connor tugged at me and pulled me down the passageway for a bit toward the next room and the next set of spy holes.

  Aiden was just as naked as Malia. But he wasn’t alone. A naked brunette sucked his length into her mouth. On the floor beneath her, another man lay on his back, his head planted between the brunette’s legs. A third man stood behind Aiden, tweaking his nipples. Moans filled the air.

  I started to turn away, but Connor stopped me. He moved behind me and pressed against me. And then he shifted my head to the right, so that I only had one eyehole. He stared through the left.

  The man behind Aiden spit on his hand and stuck his finger in Aiden’s ass.

  Aiden started to moan.

  Connor’s shaft grew thick against my ass.

  “Turn around and stay on your knees,” Aiden told the woman. She complied, lifting her legs and turning away from Aiden, careful not to kick the prone man on the floor. She put herself into a sixty-nine position with the man on the floor. But Aiden smacked her ass and made her straighten her legs so he could stay standing and slam into her twat. The man from the floor sat up and started licking. He didn’t seem to care whether his tongue hit her cunt or Aiden’s balls.

  A servant’s door opened.

  “I was thinking about that bet from the other night. And I think I could trounce you—” Willard cut off at the sight in front of him. “Um … umm…”

  “Bet you a hundred gold pieces you aren’t brave enough to join in,” Aiden snarled as he thrust roughly into the moaning woman.

  “Oh
! Um …”

  I pulled roughly away from the wall and hurried down the passageway. I had to shove down mixed feelings of horror and humor. Connor followed behind.

  I waited until we hit torchlight before speaking, “I’m sorry. I know we think he let the dragon in. I just did not want to permanently have an image of Willard—”

  “Shh,” Connor’s hand closed around my wrist. He pushed me up against the wall and slid his thigh between my legs. “Don’t think about that. Think about what happened before that.”

  “Did you like it?” I asked him. He’d always had a weakness for watching. When we were teens, he’d dragged me along once or twice through the passageways. I’d blushed and looked away then. Not anymore.

  “Sard,” Connor moaned into my neck before his tongue traced a hot path up the side. I took that as a yes.

  “Do you watch often?” I kissed his jaw. The thought of Connor groping himself as he stared at the nobles through the spyholes made me wet.

  My hand traveled down to his trousers. His length was hard and thick and there was already a wet spot on his pants. Of course, there was. Connor could sip emotions. He could feel how turned on everyone had been. For a moment I was jealous that he might have liked watching that brunette. But all that desire was only to my benefit.

  Because now his hands were roaming my body and his lips were on my neck. I asked again, “Do you watch a lot?”

  “Sometimes,” he whispered.

  I put my lips on Connor’s collarbone and sucked. He moaned, pressing into me and nibbling my earlobe as I dragged my hand up and down his shaft through his pants. I smacked my lips as I released his skin, ensuring that the hickey would mark him as mine.

  “Give me details,” I said, as I undid his belt.

  “It’s embar—”

  “Details, Cee,” I yanked on his belt until his trousers fell to the floor. I stepped back and made a show of licking my entire hand before reaching for Connor’s hard shaft. I pumped it once, then stopped, staring up at him.

  “Details,” I repeated, getting breathless. My nipples grew hard where they rubbed against my dress, they hadn’t settled back into the corset after I’d flashed Declan.

  “Lady Alred, who lives here in the palace, is courting Lord Marshall,” Declan’s voice was breathy. “He’s a royal guard, one of Ryan’s best. She likes him to come to her after his practices. And she likes to lick every drop of sweat off his body.”

  I moaned, spreading my legs further and pressing myself into Connor’s thigh.

  “What does she wear while she does it?” I asked, sliding up and down Connor’s thigh, my hand sliding along his dick in time with my body.

  “A red corset and white stockings,” Connor murmured as he reached for my breasts. They fell out of my dress with almost no effort and then he was kneading them, twisting them, pinching.

  “Does he touch her?”

  “Once she’s done. Then he’ll take her stockings off and tie her hands with them. He’ll tease her with his cock, brushing it over and over her cunny,” Connor rubbed against me as he spoke.

  The thought of the lady being tied and helpless made my entire body grow flush. Connor’s dick pressing up and down along my thigh made me go breathless. My lady bits pulsed. I raked my teeth gently down Connor’s neck before begging, “More, tell me more. Who else do you watch?”

  “There’s a little kitchen maid who lets her two husbands take her at the same time,” Connor rasped.

  I knew that sound. He was getting close. I squeezed his shaft at the base. “Don’t you dare come yet. Tell me more.”

  “She’s got red hair and the three of them like to sneak into the parlors on the first floor. They like to play royals. The guards let them do it because they like to watch the show. One of them, the one with the skinnier dick, takes her ass and the other plows her pussy. Some nights they move in tandem and I can hear their balls slap against each other as they make her moan.”

  I yanked up my skirts, bunching them around my waist. And then I straddled Connor’s thigh once more. I started to rub against him. The wet brush of my womanhood against his thigh and the idea of the naughty things this maid let people watch her do, things I wanted my knights to do to me, made me moan. “Tell me more. I’m gonna come soon, Cee.”

  Connor kept one hand on my breast but reached the other under my lifted skirts to stroke the crack of my ass. I could feel the hard bulge in his pants as he breathed in my ear. “Bloss Boss.” His fingers pinched my nipple.

  My mind filled with cloudy wonder, that high floating sensation that comes before a huge orgasm.

  What the sard are you doing?

  Quinn’s voice broke my concentration.

  I—I what? The ‘what’ came out as a moan in my head as Connor used his hand on my ass to piston me up and down against his thigh faster and faster.

  You’re having sex without me.

  It’s not sex!

  Tell me someone hasn’t sprayed his dick sauce all over your fleshy red beef curtains!

  Ew!

  Quinn sent an image of a butcher’s shop, with meat dangling from hooks, thin flaps of meat swaying against one another. A butcher came into the shop and grabbed a side of beef. He tossed it on the table, grabbed a knife, spun around, then ran a knife sideways through the meat, filleting it. And then, in typical Quinn fashion, the butcher started playing with the meat. He grabbed each of the flaps and smacked them against each other, like they were lips. He ran his finger down each of their edges whispering, “You know how I like it? I like it raw.” The butcher rubbed the slabs of beef together. “Mmmm.”

  I shuddered.

  This only encouraged Connor who murmured, “Yes, Blossie, let it go,” as he tweaked my nipple again.

  You’re ruining everything! I yelled at Quinn, when the nipple tweak didn’t do a damn thing for me.

  Good! Because I should be there.

  I’ll make it up to you.

  Connor chose that moment to drop his leg. He shoved his fingers inside me instead, pumping roughly.

  “Yes,” I breathed. “Like that.” His fingers were hard and thick, and my pussy began flutter around them.

  Connor took his free hand and scratched down my chest before reaching around and squeezing my ass, hard. That pain, combined with the pleasure from the fingers inside me, sent me back up the hill, close to the peak.

  The image of a large toad with a flat back punctured by row after row holes flew into my head. Then, in the most disgusting birthing display I’ve ever seen, baby toads popped out of the holes like pimples. Pop. Pop. Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop.

  “Ew!” I screeched.

  Connor stopped. “Did I hurt you?”

  I breathed hard, scrubbing a hand over my face to erase that awful mental image. “Quinn’s being an ass. He’s sending me disgusting mental pictures so I can’t come.”

  Connor’s face grew dark. I smiled as I felt Quinn recede from my brain. I was certain he was getting reamed mentally.

  I chimed in.

  You’re an evil cock block and not fair at all.

  I wondered vaguely if his mind could handle both of us yelling at him at once. Part of me hoped not.

  It was a minute or two before Quinn spoke to both of us. Fine. I’ll let her come. But only if she plays with me in her head. His group-thinking echoed and made my head hurt.

  Connor closed his eyes and shook his head. “Five-year-old. Can’t share.”

  You’d make the same demand if you could.

  Quinn turned off his group thinking and instead just spoke to me. Will you, Dove?

  I dunno. You denied me two orgasms just now. I’m not feeling very generous.

  Bloss, I can’t be there with you. Do you know how lonely I am without you? I’m cold, in a crappy scratchy bedroll, all alone in the woods, worried about wolves. You’re there surrounded by love—he sent me a mental image of what I was certain had to be him as a young boy. The boy had huge grey eyes and long lashes, and sarding pinchab
le cheeks. The boy jutted his lower lip and let it tremble.

  I couldn’t help my smile even as I rolled my eyes. Fine. You win.

  I turned to Connor. “We’re going to have to let Quinn play naughty with our minds while we screw.”

  Connor just crooked an elbow and tucked my hand into it. “Anything you want, Your Majesty.”

  “Well, I definitely want that. But who says we have to make things easy on Quinn? Let’s go see whatever else you want to show me first. And then maybe do something romantic. And a snack. We might need a snack, too.”

  Dove! Quinn whined.

  I just shot him back a mental image I had of Fuzzy taking a huge, disgusting berry-infused dump. Only I tried to imagine Fuzzy in Quinn’s quarters instead of the garden.

  I was grinning stupidly at Connor over my cleverness when Quinn mind-yelled at both of us.

  Sarding shite!

  What is it? I asked.

  Soldiers. Cheryn soldiers disguised not to look like soldiers. And there’s a huge group of them.

  Where are you?

  Camped near the shore. I’ve been searching for those ‘ill princes’ who are nowhere to be found.

  Quinn sent us a mental image of thousands of armed men sneaking through the trees. Behind them, the ocean frothed and spit. A cog, sails unfurled and whipping in the wind, bobbed in the shallows. Small rowboats carried groups of men to the boat.

  Quinn’s perspective suddenly flew up above the trees and I realized he’d drunk a bottle of Flight. More ships came into view. In the distance, in the old hills where Rasle lay, a volcano belched steam into the cold air.

  I met Connor’s eyes and knew he could feel my fear.

  It looked like Cheryn was preparing for war.

  Chapter Seventeen

  My mind wavered between fear for Quinn and utter confusion.

  Connor and I turned to stare at each other. Immediately, without discussion, we made our way back to Declan’s chambers.

  We arrived in Declan’s room just as Ryan burst in, Shiter and Fuzzy on his heels. Ryan tried to shoo the animals away, but Shiter darted under the bed. And Fuzzy just stood on his hind legs growling until Ryan relented.